


Kindred Spirits

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Swearing, grace!kink, wing!king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 07:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: Based on this tumblr request sent by anonymous: Hi ! I don’t know if you’re still taking requests? If so, could you write a Gadreel x Prophet!reader? Metatron gives your name to Gadreel but Dean arrives in time to save you. Later Sam, Dean & y/n catches Gadreel and you can’t stop staring at his wings, he realizes Metatron wanted him to kill his soulmate. End it how you wish, it will be amazing as usual anyway. Fluff & angst would be so nice. Absolutely love your writing ♥ Thank you.





	1. Kindred Spirits Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr

Staring up at the man looming over you, one thing held your focus. It wasn’t the shocked look in his soulful green eyes, or even the strange silver knife in his hands: it was his wings. **  
**

Actual, honest-to-goodness wings stretched out behind him. They were tattered, ragged things, with more bald patches than actual feathers. But what remained was breathtakingly beautiful; gorgeous navy blue feathers edged with silver, unlike any kind of bird feather you’d ever seen. A distant voice in the back of your head pointed out that they couldn’t possibly be real, you had to be hallucinating. Swallowing hard, you locked eyes with him for a second, before your gaze darted back to the feathery appendages once more. He took a hesitant step forward, lowering the blade in his hands.

The door to your bedroom burst open, two men crashing through the splintered door frame, guns out and at the ready. The winged man whirled around to face them, and you had to roll from your position on your bed to avoid getting hit by one of his wings. You hit the floor hard, landing on your ass on the far side of the bed, watching as the three of them faced off against one another. Strangely enough, you found yourself fearing for your winged assailant’s safety.

“Thought we wouldn’t find you, you son of a bitch?!” the shorter man shouted. HIs emerald eyes burned with anger, his gun pointed straight at the winged man’s chest. His voice was low as he sneered out, “Wasn’t too hard to track down the next prophet. What, was killing one just not enough for you?!”

The winged man remained silent, his strong jaw clenching at the green eyed ones words. You crawled backwards when the taller man headed in your direction, his gun never leaving the winged man. You were surprised when he put himself squarely between you and his target, shielding you. Staring up at the back of his head, a stray thought crossed your mind that his hair looked really soft, and you had to refrain from bursting into hysterical laughter. Nothing made sense and nerves were getting the better of you.

“Stay away from her,” Wings suddenly snarled, glaring at Bigfoot. Judging from their expressions, the gun-toting duo were just as surprised as you were at his sudden outburst.

A shriek tore from your lips when a fluttering sound filled the room and a fourth man appeared out of nowhere behind the one with wings. You were ignored as the new arrival pulled a set of cuffs from his trenchcoat and, using the advantage of surprise, quickly slapped one on one of the winged man’s wrists. Caught off guard, Wings spun around as the cuff encircled his wrist, some kind of light emanating from the cuff when Trenchcoat chanted something in a bizarre language. Oddly, you could almost understand what he was saying, like you were hearing two sets of words at the same time, one in whatever language he was speaking and one in your native tongue.

The cuff must have done something, because as the light faded, Wings dropped to his knees with a groan, the knife in his hands falling to the ground. Your heart gave a little lurch when he fell. Trenchcoat quickly got the other cuff on him, leaving Wings reeling on the floor as it was activated. Freckles and Bigfoot cautiously moved forward, guns still raised. Trembling, you watched as they closed in, moving in sync with each other.

Trenchcoat picked up the silver knife, pocketing it with a heavy sigh. His eyes landed on you, the electric blue filled with exhaustion and curiosity as he eyed you. You ducked back down, trying your best to hide from that penetrating stare. There was something about those eyes that made you feel uneasy, something ancient and all-knowing. He kept staring at you for a moment, before turning his gaze back on Wings.

“Gadreel,” Trenchcoat said with a voice like gravel, “did you really believe we wouldn’t find her? That we wouldn’t stop you? Metatron will not destroy this prophet as well.”

What the hell did they mean by ‘prophet’? Freckles had said the same thing earlier. Confusion and anger warred with fear as Wings just kneeled there, grimly stoic as the other three men surrounded him. He looked your way briefly,and his eyes caught on yours. That same look of ancient wisdom that you’d seen in Trenchcoat’s eyes filled his mossy green ones. But there was something else there as well, a look that made you feel like he was staring into the very heart, the very soul of you. You found yourself unable to look away, completely entranced despite yourself.

“Hey!” Freckles barked out, startling you out of your reverie. Apparently he’d noticed your little staring contest and didn’t approve. “The hell are you doing to her?”

Wings, whose real name was Gadreel you gathered, reluctantly tore his gaze away from you, looking down at the floor and refusing to answer. Freckles didn’t like that, if the flex in his jaw was anything to go by, but before he could say or do anything, Big Foot stepped up and placed a placating hand on Freckle’s arm. “Dean, maybe Cas should get him back to the bunker while we give her ‘the talk’.”

Freckles, Dean, clenched his jaw so tight you thought he might chip a tooth before nodding in agreement. Trenchcoat, or Cas, laid a hand on Gadreel’s shoulder and they both vanished with that same fluttering sound from before. That was the last straw, and the bizarre events of the evening got to be too much. You started hyperventilating, the hysteria bubbling up and bursting out.

“Okay, just what the hell is going on?! Who are you people?! Why are you here?! Why was he here?! What was with the wings?! Why does someone want me dead?!” you demanded shrilly, close to tears by this point.

Both men looked at each other before putting their guns away and slowly raising their hands in a gesture meant to pacify you. Bigfoot spoke in a soothing voice, obviously trying not to frighten you anymore than you already were. “My name is Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We’re not going to hurt you- we just want to make sure you’re safe, okay?”

The rational side of you pointed out that if they wanted to hurt you, they just would have let Gadreel kill you. You didn’t quite trust them entirely, but when Sam reached out a hand to help you to your feet, you accepted it. His hand positively swallowed yours as he pulled you up, releasing you once he was sure you had your balance. You nervously brushed your palms along your pajamas, feeling vulnerable as you stood before them.

Sam seemed to pick up on your unease, smiling at you gently, radiating a sense of calm. He glanced at his brother, and Dean cleared his throat, saying, “Why don’t you get dressed and meet us in your living room? There’s a lot you don’t know going on, and we can bring you up to speed. Sound good?”

You nodded, grateful that they were giving you your privacy and seemed willing to answer your questions. They filed out, clomping down the hall to your living room. You waited until they were out of sight before putting on a bra and grabbing some clothes out of your closet, not even bothering to see what it was before pulling it on. Once you were comfortably dressed, you padded out of the room toward the living area. Sam and Dean had made themselves comfortable, sitting side by side on your couch, whispering to each other. They stopped when you came into the room, both shooting you tight smiles.

Hesitantly sitting in the loveseat opposite them, you settled in as they began to tell you a tale so incredible it couldn’t possibly be real. They told you about themselves- Sam and Dean Winchester, famous, some would say infamous, hunters descended from a long line of hunters. They didn’t hunt deer, or quail, or duck; they hunted monsters. Werewolves, vampires, and witches were their prey, along with creatures you’d never even heard of before. Something else they hunted: demons. And angels.

You reeled at the knowledge that demons and angels, Heaven and Hell, existed. Never having given much thought to the afterlife, the idea that Purgatory actually existed and was overrun with monsters had your mind spinning. You couldn’t help thinking that it explained the wings- Gadreel was an angel, and he’d been sent to kill you. It left you reeling, trying to take in this whole new world you’d previously known nothing about.

When it was your turn to speak, you confessed something that you hadn’t told anyone else. You described the bolt of lightning striking you several days prior, and how nothing had seemed quite right since then. Unexplainable things had started happening since then, not the least of which was Gadreel popping up in your bedroom as you were getting ready to go to sleep. He never said a word, just pulled that knife, an angel blade, and stared you down. You didn’t mention the way he’d hesitated. Once they finished their interrogation, you began asking questions of your own, such as who Gadreel and Metatron were exactly. You could tell the hunters had a personal beef with Gadreel, and you had a vested interest in finding out just what you’d found yourself in the middle of.

They, rather reluctantly, shared their history with the angel. They told how Gadreel had impersonated another angel in order to heal Sam of some dire injury while healing himself in the process. Sam explained how Gadreel had taken over his body and gone to work for Metatron, an angel who was waging war against their friend Cas, yet another angel, for control of Heaven. How Gadreel began assassinating people on Metatron’s orders, starting with a close friend of theirs. You were next on his list it would seem.

“So, you think Metatron put a hit out on me? Why though? I don’t have anything to do with any of this. What threat could I possibly pose?”

“I’m afraid you do, sweetheart. That bolt of lightning? It only strikes prophets,” Dean answered.

“What?” you breathed out, refusing to accept that you heard correctly.

“Our friend, Kevin- when Gadreel…Metatron ‘flipped a switch’ so no other prophets would be activated. Looks like he didn’t flip it fast enough. Cas said you were next in line.”

A sinking feeling filled you at the certainty in his voice. Sam must have caught the look of dawning realization on your face. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re not going to let anything happen to you okay. We’ve got someplace safe, somewhere Metatron can’t get you.”

“Where’s that?” you asked in a small voice, feeling lost and overwhelmed.

“A bunker,” Dean piped up, “our base of operations, so to speak. It’s guarded against every kind of monster out there; ain’t no way one of Metatron’s forces is getting you there.”

“A batcave huh,” you laughed humorlessly.

“Something like that,” Dean chuckled just as dryly.

You sat there for a few moments, simply trying to absorb all of this new information. Your life had drastically changed overnight and you were struggling to cope. Dean and Sam let you think, not saying a word. You supposed this wasn’t their first time seeing a prophet try to adjust to their new role. Ultimately, there was no other choice. You either went with them until this whole mess was resolved, or you died. It really was as simple as that.

It took no time at all to pack a few bags and say goodbye to your old life. The next two days passed in a blur as the three of you hit the road. Turns out their bunker was in a town called Lebanon in Kansas. They took turns driving, stopping only for bathroom breaks and to eat. You didn’t say much, still numb from the shock of finding your world turned upside down. Thankfully, they seemed pretty understanding and left you to your thoughts.

Thoughts that frequently circled back to Gadreel. You couldn’t deny that you’d felt something when you first saw him- a nagging compulsion to get closer. Even the blade in his hands hadn’t really frightened you; you knew deep in your gut that he never would have used it on you, even before he’d lowered it. Sitting in the backseat of Dean’s Baby, all you wanted was to see your would be assassin again. The feeling plagued you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. Over and over, you played that sentence in your head:  _Stay away from her_.  Just the memory of it sent a shiver down your spine, the almost possessive tone in his voice making your heart race.

It was nearly nightfall on the second day when Dean pulled up to the back of an old power plant. You could just make out the giant entryway in the dark. Climbing out of the backseat, you stretched cramped limbs, rolling your neck to work out the kinks. Sam grabbed your bags before you had a chance, while Dean grabbed their ‘gear’ and you followed them down the steps and through the imposing door. The clang of it as it swung shut startled you. You had the fanciful idea that it was cutting you off from your old life went through your mind, and shook your head to clear it of the thought.  Dean went off to unpack, and Sam lead you down the twisting halls to one of the spare bedrooms. Leaving you with to get settled, he went off to go help Dean. You looked around the bland room, barren of any decoration, so different from your own bedroom. Homesickness hit you hard

Suddenly too exhausted to unpack your belongings, you stretched out on top of the musty smelling blankets, falling into a deep sleep almost instantly. It wasn’t dreamless; visions of faceless creatures coming for you, hounding your every step, plagued your dreams. Oddly enough, you had an unexpected defender. Though his back was turned so you couldn’t see his face, you knew him. His dominating, formidable silhouette, coupled with the stunning wings made recognizing Gadreel easy.

In your dreams, you watched as he fought off your assailants, his wings flared out to shield you from harm. Fear clawed at your throat; not fear for yourself, but for him. Every time he faced off against an opponent, you worried that he could be injured or even worse. The possibility that he could be killed had you whimpering in your sleep. Just as one of the combatants managed to land a blow on him, you jerked awake, face damp with tears.

Scrubbing at your face with a sleeve, you got up, no longer tired and afraid to fall back asleep. Disoriented and shaken, you wandered out into the labyrinthine halls, trying to find the Winchesters. Following the sound of raised voices, you found your way back into a small kitchen, where the brothers were having a discussion with Castiel. You ducked behind the doorway before they could see you. Something about the blue eyed angel left you on guard, as if he saw your innermost thoughts. Shamelessly eavesdropping, you listened in on what they were discussing.

“So you’re saying he won’t talk,” Dean said, frustration and anger evident in his voice.

“All he will say is that he wishes to see her,” Cas answered.

“Like hell that’s happening,” Dean said gruffly.

“Cas, why does he want to see her?” Sam asked.

“He won’t say.”

“I want to see him,” you piped up, walking into the room. Three sets of eyes snapped over to you as the brothers started protesting at once: it was too dangerous, you were putting yourself at risk, he couldn’t be trusted. And as much as their arguments made sense, you held your ground. “He won’t talk unless it’s to me. Besides, you aren’t the only ones with questions, you know.”

You went back and forth with them for a while, before Cas stepped in. “Maybe if someone were there to act as a guard?” he suggested, eyeing you curiously.

That started off a whole new round of arguing, but eventually you got your way, much to Dean’s displeasure. Cas agreed to act as your bodyguard as you interrogated Gadreel, and promised to intervene should things start to go south. The brothers wanted to go as well, but you pointed out Gadreel would be less likely to say anything if they were present. It touched you that they were worried for your safety, so willing to throw themselves between you and danger if need be.

Though you didn’t say it, you didn’t believe you would be in danger, that Gadreel would actually hurt you. It made absolutely no sense, but then, very little did these days. You gestured to Cas, indicating for him to lead the way. You followed him as he led you deeper into the bunker, the two of you not saying a word the whole time. You felt on edge, both from the prospect of seeing Gadreel again and being alone with Castiel. He seemed to radiate a sense of authority; it was easy to believe he was the commander of a faction of angels waging war on Heaven.

You nearly ran into his back when he stopped in front of a door labeled ‘7B’. When he pushed open the door to reveal shelves full of boxes and file folders, you shot him a confused look. He strode toward some of the bookcases, and you couldn’t contain your gasp when they unveiled a secret room, one hidden from sight. At his nod, you stepped forward, heart stopping when you saw Gadreel seated in the middle of what could only be called a dungeon.

His head snapped up, green eyes immediately finding yours. He didn’t look injured, something you were unreasonably glad of, merely exhausted as he sat manacled and chained like some feral beast. His wings drooped along the floor, gleaming dully in the dim light. You went to move closer, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your shoulder. Glancing back, you remembered you weren’t alone, Castiel holding you back before you could do something stupid. Turning back to Gadreel, you locked eyes with him. Now that you were standing in front of him, you had no idea what to say.

Castiel cleared his throat, the sound echoing off of the walls. “Well, brother. You wished to speak with her.”

Gadreel stared at you for a moment, not saying a word. The chains holding him rattled slightly as he shifted against them, his wings coming up and almost straining towards you. Castiel mistook the movements as signs of aggression, and pushed you to stand behind him. You made a noise of protest, trying to keep Gadreel in sight. Longing unlike anything you’d ever felt before filled you to the core as you ducked around the trenchcoated angel.

Before he could grab you, you were standing right in front of Gadreel, close enough to touch. Kneeling on the ground in front of him, you took one of his hands in your own, a sense of completion going through you as your skin touched his. Warmth filled you, spreading out from where your hands were joined to the top of your head and the tips of your toes. He sighed at your touch, leaning forward as much as possible to rest his forehead against yours. “It’s you,” he murmured, his deep voice like music to your ears.

Everything else faded as the two of you took each other in. Nothing else mattered; not Castiel, not Metatron, no angelic civil war. All that mattered was Gadreel touching you, his wings folding around you in a feathery embrace. Running a hand along his scruffy jaw, you never wanted to lose this feeling. Touching him, being touched by him, left you with a sense of a sense of fulfillment unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

“What the hell, Cas?!” Dean’s voice rang out like a shot, before you were ripped away from Gadreel. It was pandemonium. You cried out in protest, struggling to get free from Sam’s hold on you, but his grip was too strong. Dean angrily questioned Castiel, asking why he’d allowed you to get so close to their prisoner as Sam tried to maintain a hold on you. Gadreel began shouting for you, pleading with the hunters to let you go, to not hurt you. You didn’t miss the bewildered looks the brothers shared, but your only concern was getting back to him.

After several chaotic minutes, Castiel finally boomed out, “Enough!”

It was impossible to ignore the commanding tone of his voice, everyone uneasily calming down. You strained to keep your eyes on Gadreel, reassured when he met your gaze. The same longing you felt was reflected in his eyes, and his wings reached for you again. You tried to subtly shift closer to them, but Sam gently pulled you back, keeping you out of reach. Dean struggled to reign in his anger with obvious effort. You could hear the strain in his voice when he said, “Someone mind telling me what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” you answered tremulously. You tried not to shrink when they all turned to face you. Locking eyes with Gadreel once more, you felt a surge of confidence go through you. Straightening, you continued, “I feel drawn to him; I can’t explain it, I just…I need to be by him.”

You reached again for his wings, managing to brush against one sleek appendage this time. Gadreel sighed at the touch, and you felt the need to do it again. You missed the way Castiel’s eyes widened in understanding, and the confused looks exchanged between the brothers as you stroked at seemingly empty air. Your focus was solely on Gadreel, and hearing him make that sound again.

“I wondered,” Castiel said, comprehension filling his voice. Dean and Sam looked at him for explanation. He ignored them, turning to you and saying, “You see them, don’t you?”

“See what?” Sam asked, curiosity and frustration thick in his voice.

You knew what Castiel was referring to, and nodded. A look of grim satisfaction on his face at your response, he asked Gadreel, “And you feel it. The resonance.”

“Yes, brother. I feel it, I feel her,” he replied, melodic voice achingly sweet.

“I thought as much, though I didn’t believe it possible.” Noting the irritation on the Winchesters’ faces, Cas explained, “Soulmates. I heard it happened between angels and humans, but I never actually believed the stories. It’s the only way a human can safely perceive an angel’s wings. I had my suspicious back at the house, when I noticed how her soul mimicked Gadreel’s grace. The resonance between them is almost palpable.”

 _Soulmates_. As ludicrous as the idea sounded, you believed him. For all that Gadreel was a virtual stranger, an assassin sent to kill you, there was no denying the draw between you, an almost physical ache to be with him. You needed to feel his skin against yours and his wings around you again more than you needed your next breath. Gadreel stared at you like you were the sun, blindingly radiant and necessary for life.

“Please,” you pleaded, tugging against Sam’s grip, “he won’t hurt me, I know he won’t.”

“Never,” Gadreel vowed, “I could never hurt you.”

“You were sent to kill her,” Dean pointed out, clearly skeptical of the whole thing.

“Against my wishes,” your soulmate protested.

“He hesitated Dean,” you blurted out. “Before you showed up, he lowered the angel blade and hesitated. He had plenty of time to kill me before you got there, but he didn’t lift so much as a finger.”

“I couldn’t,” Gadreel confessed, gaze fixed on you. “As soon as I saw you, I knew I could never bring you harm. I’d sooner die.”

“Don’t say that,” you reprimanded him sharply. “Don’t you ever say that, not ever.”

“It’s true, my light. I will do whatever it takes, sacrifice whatever I must, to make sure you are safe from harm.”

“What about Metatron?” Sam cut in, his hold on you loosening. “He’s not going to stop sending angels out after her. Are you really prepared to take them all on?”

“I swear, they won’t come anywhere near,” Gadreel growled out ominously. “I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I will aid you, give you what knowledge I have of Metatron’s plans. Whatever you wish, it is yours. All that I ask is that I be allowed to stay.”

“Why should we trust you?” Dean asked.

“Metatron sent me to kill my own soulmate, Dean Winchester. The other half of myself. Do you truly believe I would go back to him after that?”

Dean didn’t have a response for that and Sam didn’t fight this time when you tugged free and rushed toward Gadreel. You threw your arms around him, cradling his chained form to you. His wings came up, shrouding you in safety and comfort. He leaned into your touch, humming in contentment. You swore he damn near started purring when you ran your hands through his hair, gently combing the silky strands. You missed the whispered conversation between the others in the room, your focus solely on Gadreel. Your soulmate.

A loud clanking sound filled the air as Castiel released Gadreel from his imprisonment. You barely had time to react before he stood, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his front. He whispered words of devotion and adoration in your ears, swearing over and over that he’d protect you. You clung to him just as tightly, reveling in the strength and warmth of him. Surrounded by his arms and his wings, you were exactly where you needed to be.

You were home.


	2. Kindred Spirits Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being separated from one’s soulmate is hard, but the reunions almost make up for it.

Nights were always the hardest when he was away. During the day, at least, you could distract yourself with menial little tasks to occupy your time, while away the hours until he was in your arms once more. But at night, the bunker quiet as he, Castiel, and the Winchesters worked on a case, it was so much harder to ignore the ache in your chest that came from missing your angel.

No one ever mentioned this part of finding your soulmate, the restlessness and longing that filled every fiber of your being while you were apart. Soulmates were two halves of a whole, and being separated left you feeling incomplete. The first time Gadreel had been called away from your side had been…unpleasant, to put it mildly. Worry clouded your mind despite his reassurances everything would be fine. It was dangerous work he was doing- first aiding Castiel in bringing down Metatron, then restoring Heaven and helping on hunts- and watching him drive off was one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do.

Over time, it got a little easier to manage the anxiousness, but the bond you shared with the angel made you keenly aware of every moment spent separated from one another. When they were present, the brothers would do their best to keep you distracted, either enlisting your research skills when they had a case or suggesting a night out on their rare down time. You appreciated their efforts, honestly, but neither of them really understood how difficult it was for you.

With a sigh, you shut the heavy book in front of you, pushing it and the demon tablet away. Working on translating the damn thing was the only way to keep your mind fully occupied off of Gadreel’s absence, but staring at it for hours on end was guaranteed to give you a splitting migraine. Rubbing at your temples, you packed everything away for another day. The hour was late enough to be early, and with everyone gone, the bunker was still as a crypt.

Rolling your eyes at the macabre thought, you called it a night, though it was doubtful you’d get much sleep. The bed was simply too big and too empty without Gadreel there to share it. Brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas, you sent up a prayer to him, reminding him to be safe and to return to you soon. Though Metatron had long since been defeated, there were still sympathizers to his cause, and you knew all too well that your angel had no shortage of enemies.

With these thoughts on your mind, you tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Exhausted though you were, sleep remained just beyond your reach. After another hour of futilely trying to set your restless mind at ease, you gave up, tossing aside the blankets with a huff. Slipping into your robe, you padded through the empty halls to the kitchen: perhaps some warm milk would help.

One whiff of the pungent odor coming from the milk had you reconsidering your plan. Scrunching your nose at the unpleasant smell, you put it back on the barren shelves. Making a mental note to do a supply run the next day, the sound of the front door opening caught your attention.

Excitement flooded your system as you scurried towards the War Room, anxious to see your angel. Sure enough, he was descending down the stairs just as you entered, his tired expression lifting when he caught sight of you. You flung yourself at him without thinking, his arms and wings immediately wrapping around you. For the first time since he’d left, you felt complete, the missing piece of yourself slotting back into place. His lips found yours, kissing you slow and sweet.

Pulling away, he gave you a radiant smile, a teasing light in his eyes. “I take it you missed me, my love.”

“Eh, maybe just a little,” you grinned.

He kissed your smile away, this one firmer and more deliberate. You lost yourself in him, reveling in the press of his broad body against your own, certain he could feel the pounding of your heart thudding away in your chest. Sliding your hands behind his neck, you upped the ante, flicking your tongue out to lap at the seam of his lips. He grunted in surprise, so you did it again, earning a moan from the angel.

Gadreel allowed you to part his lips with your own, letting out a low groan of approval when you sucked his bottom lip between your teeth. The kiss grew hotter, wetter, the angel’s hold on you tightening as you nibbled on his lip, licking away the sting. Exploring his mouth with your tongue, you encouraged him with eager little moans when he let his tangle with it, suckling greedily. Arousal curled in your belly, the fires stoked by the long days of missing your angel.

Cradling the back of your head with one broad hand, he held you still so he could ravish your mouth, impatiently thrusting his tongue past your lips. You were moaning non-stop by now, dimly aware of the sound of footsteps coming down the staircase, the voices of the others floating towards you. Ignoring your screaming hormones, you broke the kiss, panting for air. Gadreel didn’t look much better, his face flush with desire, pupils blown, his lips pink and swollen. You ought to stay and at least greet them, you really should, but the aching need for him was too great to ignore.

Biting back a whimper, you suggested, “Let’s take this somewhere more private, okay?”

He needed no further encouragement, scooping you up in his arms as if you weighed no more than a feather. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you lavished his neck with attention, nibbling at the golden skin. He was damn near panting with need, his hands slipping down to cup your ass, massaging the fleshy globes. Unable to resist, you kneaded at the arch of one wing, Gadreel practically growling at the touch.

Kicking in the bedroom door, he paused long enough to lock it behind you before carefully laying you onto the bed, that broad body covering your own like a shield, sheltered by a canopy of feathers. In that moment, all that mattered was that you finally had your soulmate in your arms again.

Kisses went uncounted, full of teeth and tongue and need. You whined at the press of his cock digging into your center. Letting out a hiss when you rolled your body against him, Gadreel pinned you to the bed with his hips. Slick, wet heat gathered at your core, soaking through the thin cotton of your panties. You needed him inside you more than you needed your next breath. Breaking away from his lips, you plucked at his clothes, yearning to feel his skin on yours. He was all too happy to oblige, lifting himself off of you long enough to shuck his jacket and shirt, his hands flying to undo the fly of his jeans. When he’d ditched his shoes, you didn’t know or care, too busy shedding your own clothes.

Apparently you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, your panties shredding under his impatient hands. You couldn’t find it in you to care, especially when he buried his face between your legs, your surprised shout ringing throughout the room. He groaned as the taste of you hit his tongue, growling out words in Enochian you were sure no angel should know. Normally he liked to drag things out, teasing you with his tongue until you were sobbing for him, but the many days apart had taken their toll. He ate at you like a man starved, lapping at your slick folds, delving his tongue into your channel to scoop out more of your flavor.

You could already feel your peak coming, pleasure coiling tight low in your belly. Rolling your hips into his touch, you buried a hand in his silky locks of hair, grasping at the bedsheets with the other, in desperate need of an anchor. Gasps and pleading moans filled the air, the wet squelch of his tongue fucking into you barely audible beneath them. Gadreel dragged his tongue through your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

And just like that you were coming, back arching off the mattress as ecstasy slammed through you, his name ripped from you on a choked cry. He was relentless in dragging out your climax, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you in place so he could tease the swollen bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. The pleasure bordered on pain by the time he finally drew back, his breath fanning hotly across your soaked curls. Kissing up your inner thighs, he sucked his mark into your skin, eyes glowing with primal satisfaction.

You could only lay there while he kissed and licked his way up your hips and torso, legs shaking from the strength of your orgasm. Not to say you were done with him, oh no. The sight of him wiping your slick from his face, his wings flaring behind him as he sucked on his fingers with a needy groan, had you reaching for him once more. Flames of renewed arousal fanned to life as he stretched on top of you.

The weight of him was suppressive in the best way, the heat of his skin scorching against your own. Cradled between your thighs, he rocked his hips mindlessly, the head of his cock dragging along your belly. Pulling him down for a harsh kiss, you whimpered at the taste of yourself on his tongue, your legs locking around his waist. Without breaking away, you reached a hand between your bodies, taking hold of his cock. With a few quick pumps, you lined him up with your entrance, needing to feel him in you.

Gadreel ripped his lips from yours, a long, low hiss leaving him as he pushed into your welcoming heat. His cock stretched your walls as if made just for you- which he had been, in a way. He filled you slowly, jaw clenched tight as he sheathed himself to the hilt, giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Crooning nonsensical words of endearment in his ear, you flexed your walls around him, more than ready to get on with it.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he took your hands in his and pinned them above your head, steadily withdrawing from you before filling you again with a snap of his hips. Trapped beneath him, you rolled your hips to meet his every thrust, clutching at him for dear life. The air was filled with the sounds of fucking, skin slapping against skin, desperate moans and needy sighs echoing off the walls, his feathers rustling as he rutted into you.

You tossed your head back among the pillows, mewling out his name when he attacked your exposed throat with his lips. Gadreel kissed his way across your chest, savagely whispered Enochian mixing with garbled versions of your name. Neither of you was going to last long, not with the way he fucked you, the drag of his cock on your walls pushing you closer to the edge of release.

The first tingling brush of grace was your only warning. It prickled against your skin, like biting into a piece of tinfoil. You jerked in surprise, gasping when the action pushed Gadreel even deeper. He  _must_  be close if he was using grace on you. It found your nipples, tugging at the stiff peaks hungrily, sending jolts of pleasure arrowing straight for your pussy. Grace wormed between your bodies, encircling your clit with pure celestial power. Lifting his face from where he was busy sucking a bruise into your shoulder, he rested his forehead against yours, chanting out words of devotion and love.

Tears of pleasure slipped down your face as you came, your orgasm crashing through you, the earlier release paling in comparison. Your pussy clenched down on his cock, determined to keep him buried deep inside while you rode out your climax. Grace continued to toy with you, even as he hit his own peak with a moan. Warmth flooded your center, hot ropes of come spilling into your channel. He held himself still above you, the sweat of your bodies mingling as your pussy milked him of all he had to give.

The last waves of pleasure began to recede by the time he withdrew his grace from you. You were a mess of come and sweat where your bodies were joined, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Gadreel shifted in place, your numb legs falling open, but he made no move to roll off of you. Instead, he coaxed your stiff fingers apart and carefully moved both of you to lay on your sides. His cock twitched lazily, slipping free of your entrance.

“How I have missed you, my love. My heart’s own, my other half,” he murmured, gathering you in his arms, folding his wings around your naked body.

You shivered at the feel of his feathers on your bare skin, idly raking your fingers through them, much to his delight. Snuggling impossibly closer, you said, “I missed you too, Gad. More than you know.”

It was quiet for a time, the two of you content to just bask in the afterglow, holding each other tight in a tangle of sore limbs. Gadreel smiled when you brushed back a sweaty lock of hair from his forehead, taking your hand and pressing an appreciative kiss to the palm. You could stay like this forever, no demon tablet, no cases or monsters- just you and your soulmate, sated and together.


End file.
